


I can taste eternity on your lips

by donutcats



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, I swear half of this fic is taken up by the letters they send each other, Post 3x22, Season 4 AU, Some angst, damon typical sarcasm, elena doesn't die at the end of s3, mostly elena waxing poetic about her love for damon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 15:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17206187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutcats/pseuds/donutcats
Summary: If she died- well she would have come back. But, not really. She would have come back different. She would have come back undead and staring down the barrel of eternity, and Elena Gilbert isn’t sure if she’s quite ready for forever just yet.





	I can taste eternity on your lips

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching tvd on netflix recently and I'm a huge slut for the early seasons dynamic between damon and elena. season 4 had good moments, but the entire sire bond thing kind of really ruined it. so, instead of going with canon where stefan somehow couldn't save both matt and elena from the water, I decided to change a few things. 
> 
> Hopefully, no one is too out of character, since this is the first tvd fic I've ever written. I tried my best and that's what matters. the idea of this came to me in a dream last night so ofc I Had to write it. please enjoy!

She wakes up in a hospital bed, and her chest aches a little when she tries to breathe in.  
  
It takes a few moments, to focus on the room around her, to convince herself not to panic and make her chest hurt even worse. In the span of one labored breath and the next, there’s a hand in hers. Another one at her hair, smoothing it back.  
  
It feels familiar, and her mind supplies her with Stefan’s face underwater. Damon’s voice on the phone as he tried to mask the hurt.

When Elena turns, fingers tightening and lips already wanting to form words, maybe an apology of some sort, she stops. Because it’s Jeremy, it’s Jeremy’s face filled with relief and Jeremy's worried hands, and she quickly pushes away any fleeting thoughts she had about Salvatore’s and their comfort.  
  
“Hey, Jer.” It’s a sigh, a little tired but content. Because she’s here, breathing, with Jeremy.  
  
It’s like her voice cracks something in her baby brother, because then he’s crying, pressing as close to her as he can while still sitting next to the bed. He says her name a lot, talks about how he thought he was going to lose her.  
  
“Jeremy.” She gets his attention, squeezing again at his fingers. “What _happened?_ I remember- the bridge. Going over the bridge and- Oh God, Jeremy where’s Matt? Is Matt-“  
  
“He’s ok. He’s alive Elena. You are too. You’re both ok.” He soothes, subtly trying to get even closer. Like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as he’s telling her.  
  
“But, _how?_ Stefan? I told him to get Matt. And then- it gets a bit fuzzy after that.”

Elena tugs at her brothers hand, trying to pull him into the bed with her. Because her head is hurting and her chest is hurting and her brother is hurting. He obliges, with a little smile and red rimmed eyes, he crawls in with her, both of them shifting about until they can lay on their sides facing each other, pressed close.  
  
It reminds her of when they were little. When they’d make a blanket fort in her bedroom way past their bedtime, using the bathroom as a way to quietly sneak in every blanket Jeremy could find in his room. They’d talk, whisper things to each other, giggle about stupid jokes they heard.  
  
Now, Jeremy tells her about how she almost died. How Stefan had listened and grabbed Matt, but he reached in and used his vampire strength to rip away her seatbelt. He doesn’t know the specifics, but he knows Stefan managed to get to Elena in time. Managed to give her CPR and like all things in Mystical Falls the impossible was done and she started breathing. She almost _died_ .  
  
And his voice trips over the word, and for a second the thought of Jeremy losing anyone else breaks her heart. Jeremy losing their parents, his aunt, and then his sister? It’s her job to protect him, to look out for him, and she thinks she’s doing a shitty job of it so far.  
  
But then any thoughts of him losing her are wiped away when he mentions she had vampire blood in her system. How Meredith gave her some when she was admitted earlier. If she died- well she would have come back. But, not really. She would have come back different. She would have come back undead and staring down the barrel of eternity, and Elena Gilbert isn’t sure if she’s quite ready for forever just yet.  
  
“I’m here. I’m ok, Jer.”

 

\---

 

“You’re leaving?” And ok, maybe she’s a little angry. Maybe she’s a little incredulous. Because. Really? She almost died and he’s. Leaving.  
  
Damon doesn’t pause in his packing, throwing things unceremoniously into a single suitcase. “Astute observation.” He fakes a shocked gasp, eyes widening. “What gave it away?”  
  
Ignoring Damon’s entire reaction, Elena steps closer, arms crossed close to her chest. “Why?”  
  
“Well, I did this crazy thing called making a promise to Stefan. Or was it more of a deal? Stefan started it and I felt obligated to return the favor. As one does. Either way, whoever you _didn't_ choose would leave town, letting you be oh so happy.” The words drip with Damon’s special blend of sarcasm and derision. The tone he’s curated over decades, aimed to sound like he doesn’t care even when he does.

He was going to leave, to check out of her life completely and let her carry out whatever future she wanted with Stefan. Something moves in her chest, the idea not settling in the way she thought it would. Just her and Stefan. 

“Don’t leave.” She finds herself saying, before her insides can twist any further at trying to figure out what feels so _wrong_ about a life with Stefan and only Stefan. Damon quirks an unimpressed eyebrow. She hurries to explain, to add onto her sudden request, “At least not until Caroline’s party.”  
  
“Blondie is throwing a party? For _what_ ?” His shoulders relax by a fraction. Elena realizes a little belatedly that he was readying himself for some sort of argument. Something more than just a question to stay for a party. That thing in her chest squirms again.  
  
Elena shrugs, glancing out at the large windows and then back towards him. She wants to feel casual, to feel less keyed up than this. Like it’s just a simple invitation and not a begging crying _plea_ for him to never leave. Which, isn’t _that_ a sudden revelation that she should not be having in the middle of his bedroom. That she never really wants him to leave.

Even if it means he’s a little bit miserable every day he’s with her but not _with her_.

Maybe they’re both very selfish people.

“I think it’s meant to be for Matt and I. Congratulations on not dying, or whatever. You know how Caroline is.”

His mouth thins at the mention of what her and Matt went through, his hands pausing for a fraction of a second on the suitcase zipper. Then he’s moving again, heaving the case off his bed. “Well, you know I love parties, but I think my RSVP is going to get lost in the mail-“  
  
“Please, Damon.” She moves closer, close enough to lay a hand on his arm, and she should feel bad for this. For using the way he feels about her against him. But she wants him there- _needs_ him there. Even if it’s fleeting. “The party is tonight. And then you can leave Mystic Falls and. I don’t know, do whatever Damon Salvatore does when he’s not here.”  
  
He turns to her, a slow movement, as he narrows his eyes and does that thing of his where it feels like he’s assessing her. Trying to hear all the things she’s not saying.  
  
“Alright. Just tonight. Then I’m gone like the wind, and you and Stefan can have your happily ever after.” He smiles a little meanly, a twist to his lips and if she didn’t know him so well she wouldn’t be able to see the hurt lying at the edges.  
  
“Ok.” Is all she can say back.

 

\---

 

“Are you mad at me?” Caroline asks, a little tentatively, a little quiet and unsure as they stand in Elena’s kitchen, taking out serving bowls and utensils. Her eyes search Elena’s face, as she leans in just a bit across the kitchen island.

Elena shakes her head, tucks some hair behind her ear. “No, Caroline. It’s not you. I’m just.” Letting out a frustrated sigh, she mirrors her friend. But her body is a line of exhaustion, of anger and things eating up the soft bits of her stomach, while Caroline is all earnest and worry. “I’m mad at Stefan,” she says, in a low tone. “At _Damon_.”

Caroline’s expression flickers through a few emotions, but she settles on relief mixed with confusion. The way only Caroline can. “What-” She starts, but is cut off.

“You’re mad at _us_?” Damon loudly asks from the living room, standing with a glass of bourbon in one hand, his arms outstretched a bit, his mouth and eyebrows lined in perfect exasperation. “Really?”

“Vampire hearing.” Elena grumbles, rolling her eyes before she turns towards the living room. “I wasn’t planning on saying anything tonight, because I don’t want to ruin Caroline’s party. But, since you asked, yes actually, I am.”

She’s ready to leave it at that, to finish serving up dinner and maybe talk it out with Stefan after. Not Damon, because after this he’ll be gone.

“Are you mad about the crash?” Stefan tries to ask, leaning forward from where he’s sitting on the couch, forehead wrinkling as he tries to search her face. “I saved Matt, like you asked. I managed to save you, too. You’re both _alive_ , Elena.”

The frustration continues to boil, she can feel it at the base of her throat. As Stefan asks for clarity, as he tries to fix it without knowing _why_. As Damon stands there, not saying a word, as if he’s already accepted her unnamed anger and is willing to file it away, just another thing for her to be mad about.

“It’s not about that! It’s not about what happened at Wickery Bridge.” She erupts, standing against the archway between the rooms, hand curled into the wood. She meant it when she said she didn’t want to get into this right now, but it’s as if suddenly, she can’t stop herself. “I’m mad that you made Damon promise to leave town. And I’m mad, Damon, that you agreed. That you’d break your promise to _me_ , to-” Elena stops herself, as she feels the tell tale tingle around her eyes. She doesn’t want to cry, not tonight. That’s all she’s made up of anymore, broken promises and tears. “To make Stefan feel better?”

“What promise?” She hears Stefan ask, in a hushed way, directed at his brother. But Damon doesn’t answer, doesn’t even turn towards Stefan. No, his eyes are on Elena, never wavering, never flickering.

“I have to leave, Elena. I _have_ to.”

“You _promised_ , Damon.”

“I did! I promised I would never leave you again. But that’s when it was just _you_ and _me_ , and a Stefan sized _hole_ in everything we did.” Damon seethes the words, and Elena vaguely notes the way Stefan flinches at the words. “But now? I can’t stay. I’ll be _miserable_ if I stay. If I have to see your _face_ every single day, knowing that you cared enough to _let me go_.” He’s mocking her, the words she used in their last phone call, because he’s hurting.

Reminding herself to breathe, she steps further into the living room, a hand pressing into her stomach, like she can keep herself together with that bit of pressure alone. “Do you know why I chose Stefan?”

“Elena..”

It’s Bonnie, who says her name, a gentle warning. Because Damon doesn’t say anything, he lets out a soft wounded noise, nothing more. And now, his eyes skitter away, like he can’t look at her for whatever admission she’s about to deliver.

She’s known for awhile, who she was going to choose, and the reasoning behind it. She probably knew that day when they both stood on her porch and she said she couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.

“No, he needs to know. I chose Stefan that night, because I’m _selfish_ .” Someone gasps, a small sound that Elena doesn’t want to pinpoint right now. “Because I can’t lose either of you. I need you both. So I chose to keep you both.”  
  
“You’re not making _sense_ , Elena.” Damon practically snarls, his entire posture stiff. His gaze latched back onto her the moment the word selfish was out of her mouth.

“I am if you’d just listen! I chose Stefan because I selfishly knew that you’d still be around. It didn’t matter who I chose, because you’d always be there! Because I need you _both_!”

The anger radiating off of him is thunderous, the glass in his hand a hair's breadth away from shattering in his grip. “You can’t _have_ both, Elena.”

“I know.” She breathes, her own fingers digging into her stomach. “I know. I _refuse_ to be Katherine.” Elena walks closer, laying her free hand on Damon’s arm, ignoring the barely there flinch at her touch that turns her stomach. “You deserve better than that, Damon.”

Damon softens at those words, or maybe he sags under them. The anger retreats, just a bit, and Elena considers that a small victory.

“You deserve better than Katherine. Better than feeling like some consolation prize. Because you’re not.” Elena shakes her head, just a small movement, and she can feel the tears welling in her eyes now. “You’re more than that, Damon. And I-”

Like a shock, she’s reminded of something, and she cuts herself off. The something that was the whole reason she wanted him to come tonight, the something she spent far too long debating on actually give him or not. With a mumbled _‘stay right there’_ , she rushes upstairs, leaving behind a wave of confused looks.

She tears the pages out of her diary, rummages around until she finds a crisp envelope, and seals her words away. With a pen, she quickly scratches out Damon’s name onto the back of the envelope, and then she’s rushing back down, back in front of Damon. Taking the glass from his hand, she replaces it with the letter.

“If you need to leave, then leave. Because I haven’t changed my mind. I still choose Stefan. I need him right now. And I need _you_ , but I know you. And as selfish as I am when it comes to you, Damon, I can’t watch you hurt.” She makes him take the letter, because he’s just staring at her, face furrowed and thinking. Elena presses the letter into his chest, trying to emphasize her point. “I don’t care when you open this, but only do it when you’re gone. Either just outside of the town line or in some Russian brothel. But open it, and read it. Because it took me all day to write, to figure out all the things I wanted to say to you, and you _deserve_ to hear them.”

Like a switch, Damon moves away, clutching the letter, but his face has shuttered down, closed off. That edge of angry still seeping into everything he does. Because he hides behind angry when he doesn’t know what else to be.

“ _Fine._ ”

And then he’s gone.

 

===

 

_Dear Damon,_

_Today, I woke up and it hurt. Not physically, because I’m healed from what happened that night at Wickery Bridge. That night where I almost died in the same spot my parents did. The same spot, ironically, where I almost died the first time. I hope I don’t make a habit out of it._

_I woke up hurting. Deep in my chest, buried behind my bones and muscles and every other piece of anatomy that makes up Elena Gilbert. I didn’t know why. What did I have to hurt over? I was alive, Matt was alive. You and Stefan and Caroline and Tyler and. You were all alive._

_Maybe, I reasoned, it was grief for Ric. Of course I would hurt, knowing that for the split second my heart stopped, it severed whatever tie I had to him. Long enough to kill him, but apparently not long enough for vampirism to kick in._

_Sometimes I wonder why I’m lucky. What have I’ve ever done to deserve this sort of luck. The unkillable sort. And that’s how I feel, at times. Like the world keeps trying, keeps wanting balance but I refuse to die._

_That’s for another time, I think. Musing about my own mortality. No, this letter is about you, Damon. Or, I guess us._

_It wasn’t Ric, is what I’m trying to get at. He wasn’t the sole reason for the aching in my body, wrapping itself around my heart. I was so confused. Until I showed up at the Boarding House. Until I let myself in and up to your bedroom, and found you packing. Found you leaving._

_It wasn’t until later, until I came back home and I was sitting on the couch that I realized the hurt in my chest had grown, had been throbbing a loud steady rhythm since I first saw you folding those button down shirts of yours._

_I woke up, and it hurt. Because there was some part of me, that knew what you were doing long before I even got out of bed._

_I told you once, that it would always be Stefan. At the time, I meant it. I can never stop loving Stefan. He’s special, the way he fits into my life, the way he made me feel like I could be so much more than a sad little girl mourning a lost family, lost possibilities._

_Stefan taught me to smile again. How to wake up in the morning and not dwell on everything I’ve lost. He reminded me that I could feel more than just sadness._

_But you, Damon, you taught me to be reckless, to have confidence. That when you’re going through hell, no matter what, keep going. That things are going to hurt but that’s ok. Because hurting is just a part of life._

_Right now, I need Stefan in my life. I need him to keep showing me the simple joys of every day. Because I don’t think I’m strong enough yet to let him go. Because what if he doesn’t come back, Damon? I’m still just a scared girl holding onto him so tightly. I love him and I can’t let him leave, not yet._

_You might be wondering how I can say that about Stefan, and yet I let you go easily. It’s not easy. Please understand that. I can let you go because I know without a shadow of a doubt you’ll come back to me. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, or why. But I know you will. In your own way._

_You promised you’d never leave me again, and I hope you keep that promise. Even if you’re far away, getting blackout drunk in Dublin or backpacking somewhere in Nepal and snacking on Tibetan monks as you go. Never leave me._

_Stefan might have taught me what it feels like to love, to open my heart and truly love, but you Damon. You expanded on that. You added new adjectives and definitions to the list. You showed me how consuming love could be, how real._

_This isn’t a love letter. It’s just a letter, explaining that I love you._

_You told me once, that this is right, just not right now. I want to hold you to that, because I believe it. I believe that we’re a mess of bad timing, and one of these days it’s going to be right._

_I’m angry. I know I am. I need to say this before I close out this letter. Because you have to know. I’m so mad that you would leave me. That Stefan would make you promise and that you’d choose his word over mine. But I think part of me understands. Or wants to understand. I know you need to do this. No matter how livid I am._

_So, I want you to come back. It’s not just that I know you’ll find your own way, but I want you to. And not to see me on my deathbed because you think staying away will ensure Stefan and I will ride off into the sunset. I don’t think I could live without you in my life for that long._

_Give me a couple of years, to figure things out. To go to college and straighten out the mess I’ve become. But don’t shut me out completely. If I text you, text back. If I call you, answer. Even if it’s just enough so I know you’re alive. You live whatever life you want, and I’ll live mine, and you won’t think about coming back to Mystic Falls until the time is right._

_Barring any supernatural apocalypse that you have to run home for, of course._

_I want to hear from you Damon. I need you in my life._

_We’ll survive this. We always do._

 

===

 

Her birthday comes and goes, she’s nineteen and it’s a smaller affair then her eighteenth. It’s nice and filled with friends and gifts. Her and Stefan are happy. Or, happy adjacent. She still loves him, still looks to him for advice on certain things. But she doesn’t think she’s in love with him anymore.

Which, is a mixture of surprising and not.

The things she doesn’t talk to Stefan about, she talks to Damon about. Which isn’t new, actually, when she thinks about it. Except now, he’s not in Mystic Falls. His words come by text, or through the speaker of her phone. They’ve video chatted a grand total of once, and that was only because Damon wanted to show her a cathedral in Prague and he swore still pictures wouldn’t do it justice.

They mostly text though, and Elena thinks it’s because it’s easier for him to hide things. Because then she can’t hear the tone of his voice or see the tilt of his mouth that signals something’s wrong.

He wishes her a happy birthday. A text with balloon and confetti emojis and it makes her giggle. If you told Elena before this year, that Damon Salvatore of all people was a fan of emojis, she’d call you a dirty liar.

They weren’t in constant communication, she didn’t hear from him every day, but it was enough.

Every day, without fail though, she made sure to send him a good morning text. Most days, she gets nothing in return, or he texts back about something completely unrelated hours later. Sometimes though, he sends her a little sun emoji, wherever he is in the world at whatever hour he woke up.

And without fail, no matter if the only thing said between them all day is Elena’s daily good morning, he always sends her _Goodnight, Elena_. She can hear it is his voice, when she closes her eyes, and she wonders if that’s why he does it. Because it was always his thing. Always telling her goodnight no matter what else went on that day.

Their conversations were never very long or held much substance. They were filled with small short things, with weeks between proper conversations.

Which is why, months later, Damon surprises her by giving her a live play by play of a soccer match he’s watching. He’s a little drunk, because he told her, and it makes her smile.

 **_I caught myself calling it football earlier.  
_** **_Mental._**

He says, in the middle of his play by play.

 _sounds like you’ve been spending too much time in london_ , She replies.

He sends the middle finger emoji, before he’s right back to it, color commentary of the match. Elena places her phone off to the side, in view but far enough away where she can try and focus on the essay she needs to write, instead of whatever complaints he has for foreign soccer teams.

 

\---

 

Elena is twenty years old, and it feels like Stefan is slipping through her fingers.

She spends her birthday in her dorm room, with her two best friends, getting drunk. Caroline compelled the clerk at the liquor store to believe she was twenty-one, and Elena has never been happier to have a vampire for a best friend.

She feels like she’s growing up, like college is shaping her and changing her and she’s ok with it. When she thinks of her future, she can never really picture Stefan, at least not in the way he wants. He’s in her life, of course he is, but he’s to the side. Stefan is one of her best friends, and as of lately that’s all he’s really felt like.

She kisses him and there’s something missing. She tells him she loves him and it doesn’t set her heart on fire like it once did. She means it, of course, but it’s not like when she was seventeen and starting a new life.

And he can feel it. He can feel her pulling away inch by inch, and so he pulls away too. Gives her the space he can tell she needs.

Elena hopes he stays. Hopes that even, when they finally talk and call it quits, he doesn’t run. She still wants him in her life, and just because in this future Elena wants for herself he doesn’t have a shiny label that proclaims him _boyfriend_ , doesn’t mean he can’t be in her future at all.

She falls asleep listening to Caroline sing along to a song that filters it’s way through her laptop.

 _  
I think Stefan and I broke up,_ Elena types out, months later, sitting in the middle of a library with too many books about dead poets piled around her.

  
**_You ‘think’?  
_** **_Don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure breakups aren’t a maybe type of deal, Elena._  
**

_we’re still friends. and we still hang out_  
_but it’s different_  
_we had like, a Talk and_ _  
Yeah, ok, we broke up_

 **_  
_ **His reply takes a little bit to come, and she watches the little bubble pop in and out a few times beforehand.

 **  
** _**My** **condolences**._ ****  
**_We’ll hold a funeral for your first love._ ** **_  
_ ** ******_Toronto is nice this time of year._**

_  
really?_

**  
** **_Eh. Depends on your definition of nice._**

He’s changing the subject, and she knows it’s because he doesn’t really want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to know her feelings on the subject of Stefan and Break Ups. She didn’t really want to talk about it either, to be honest. She just wanted him to _know_.

Elena scrolls through the pictures of Toronto that he sends her. Pictures of sidewalks and candid snapshots of streets, and the random bits of architecture. There’s a selfie buried in the middle, Damon squinting against the sun as he stands in front of some museum. She saves that one.

 

\---

 

 _I miss you_  
_it’s starting to feel like a physical ache in my chest_  
_I wish you were here, all the time_  
_it’s hard not having you here because I had to realize you’re the person I lean on the most  
_ _for everything_

Elena wakes up, and she’s twenty-one. For a second, she burrows further into her bed, thinks about the party she has to attend tonight. It’s meant to be a surprise, but there’s no way Caroline Forbes would act as manic as she has been lately over nothing, as if she’d pass up on planning something for Elena’s 21st birthday.

She reaches for her phone, ready to check the time, when she sees the notification for a new text. A new text from _Damon_. She doesn’t really look at the preview, her fingers already sliding and tapping to open it up, and she groans seeing her last texts. How desperate she sounds. She almost forgot about sending them.

They’re the product of too little sleep and too much caffeine at an hour of the night that could be considered morning.

Finally, her eyes focus, and she reads Damon's reply. It’s not much, nothing more than one emoji, but it makes something her chest flip flop. It’s a heart emoji, the one with the sparkles, and he already knows it’s her favorite one because she uses it every time something calls for a heart emoji.

Elena goes about the rest of her day like normal well adjusted person, runs errands and does chores and some school work, and by the time the party rolls around she’s managed to only glance at the heart maybe five times. Ok, six.

When she makes it back to her room, she rushes to pull her hair up and find the dress she wanted to wear in her closet. The zipper is halfway done up when it catches her eye; a box on her nightstand, an envelope with her name scrawled across it tucked underneath.

She doesn’t realize she stopped breathing until she’s sitting on her bed with the items in her lap, and then she’s sucking in a breath, recognizing the hand writing. She opens the letter first, almost hungry to see the words he’s written. The box can wait, she needs to see what he has to say.

 

\---

 

_Dear Elena,_

_I haven’t written a letter in decades. What with the marvelous invention of the telephone, I put away pen and paper and never really thought about it again. Until now. So, I’m sorry if I’m a little rusty._

_I felt like I should dabble into your medium of choice, words on a piece of paper, so many chances for mistakes and trusting yourself enough to not make them. As we all know, that’s not my specialty. I make mistakes and I_

_I was going to try and spin some really fancy analogy with a hint of well crafted humor, but really, it’s impossible. I make mistakes and I keep making mistakes and there’s not a day that goes by without making a Damon Mistake. Patent pending._

_So, I’m going to try my best. I’m going to dive right in and say what I want to say. Some of it may be redundant, since you’re well aware of how I feel for you. So, just bear with me for the next, oh, ten minutes of your life?_

_Here goes nothing._

_I miss you, Elena. God, I miss you so much, more and more every minute. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing, the thought of hearing your voice at the end of it all is what gets me through most days. Being able to tell you about the sights and the experiences, it’s nice, but I always wish I could share them with you. I want to show you Rome and Athens and any other tourist attraction that catches your attention. I want to show you the smaller places too, the places people don’t really know about. You deserve it all._

_And I love you. But you already knew that, thankfully. Because I don’t think I could find the proper words to express exactly how much I love you. When I look at my future, you’re all I see Elena. You are my life. In five years, I see you and me, wherever you want to be. In ten years, fifty. It’s you and me. I’ll follow you to the ends of forever if it means I’ll get to be by your side the entire time._

_I have been alive for 171 years, and in that entire time you’re the only person I’ve truly loved. For a while, I thought the love of my life was Katherine. She reeled me in with her attention, making me believe her lies. But, we know how that ended. After that, I convinced myself I had to find Katherine, I had to save her. Katherine was my end goal for a whole 145 years. Then, there was you._

_With the risk of sounding like a cliche, you Elena Gilbert were like the sun, such a surprise after so many years living under a dark grey sky. I was wonderstruck._

_You showed me what real love felt like. What warmth and softness felt like. Your real smiles, real laughter. Your compassion and kindness doled out to anyone you thought deserving. Even when someone wasn’t._

_You unintentionally showed me how fake Katherine was, even when I already knew it. There was just something about you that drove it home, every single time I looked at you. You made it real. You make everything so real, Elena._

_I’ve been alive for 171 years and I came to the conclusion that I must have been made to love you. Because everything before you felt dull. Felt like it could blow away in the wind. I’m immortal, time feels different, but nothing felt permanent. Until you. Until loving you felt like my life’s goal._

_When I love, Elena, I’m all in. I love forever. So if you’re serious about us, if you’re real, then I hope you’re ready for forever._

_Anyways, I can’t be there for your birthday, but I made sure this letter and your necklace got to Bonnie, so she can hopefully give it to you on your very special day. The big 21! Now you can drink legally. Instead of letting Vampire Barbie compel your way to the bottom of multiple liquor bottles._

_It’s a necklace of protection, supposedly. I found it in Ireland, the home of the fey and all that. So, hey, I believe it. The Irish know more about magic than I do so who am I to call bullshit? I know how much you like necklaces, and how they always end up meaning something to you, so I thought I’d get you one that could be ours._

_Happy birthday, Elena. I hope you get everything you want._

_Love,  
_ _Damon_

 

_\---_

 

The necklace is some sort of smoky quartz crystal on a silver chain, with a smaller jewel dangling from the very tip of the crystal. It’s beautiful, and when she puts it on, it settles perfectly in the hollow of her collarbones.

She doesn’t see him on her birthday, just like the letter said, and she doesn’t see him the day after. Or the week after.

Elena is pacing the length of the Boarding House’s main living room two months later, listening as Jeremy talks about the newest problem he’s managed to stumble upon, when the front door opens.

The conversation ceases, and down the long length of the hallway, Elena sees him.

“Honey, I’m home.” Damon announces, strolling through the large archway, a single red rose in one hand. He makes a face as he notices everyone gathered on the couches. “What the hell have I been missing?”

“You have impeccable timing, actually. Nothing’s happened _yet_.” Caroline pipes up from her spot next to Stefan, trying her best to diffuse the tension of the room.

“Oh, wonderful. Glad I haven’t missed the end of Mystic Falls part three. Or is it part four at this point? I can never keep track of how many times this fucking town tries to self implode.”

Elena stopped moving the moment she heard the door click open, but now she feels rooted to the spot. Damon is here, in front of her. She hasn’t seen him since that night three years ago, not in the flesh like this. The occasional picture doesn’t do him justice.

He’s snarking, his voice lilting in that way of his that conveys every ounce of sarcasm he can muster up, but his eyes haven’t left Elena since he arrived. Damon goes to move forward, towards her, his mouth ready to form some sentence, but she beats him to it. Before she can think, Elena is launching herself at him, and she can hear the halfhearted _oof_ of his at the impact.

She presses her face into his neck, breathes in the vague scent of _Damon_ . Like leather and salt and the subtle chamomile of that fancy soap he likes to use. She didn’t realize exactly how much she missed him until he’s back, here in the house, in her arms. Like he belongs here. _Like he was made just for this_ , Elena thinks.

When she pulls back, Damon’s gazing at her, his mouth curling into a gentle smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hey, you. Glad to know you didn’t miss me. Like, at all.”

“Just shut up, Damon.” Elena surges forward, crushing her lips against the soft tilt of his own.

There’s something right about it, the way Damon’s hands slide up along her shoulders to cradle her cheeks. The way she rocks onto her toes to get even closer, her fingers anchoring themselves in his hair. The way it feels natural, like breathing.

And maybe, she thinks, maybe she was made for _this_. For loving Damon with every ounce of her body that she can, every little piece of her that he deserves. Maybe they were made to love each other. Placed at opposite ends of a century and a half only to defy the odds and find their way to each other.

“I love you,” she breathes against his mouth, feels the way he quietly gasps at those words. Pulling back, Elena takes his face in her hands. “I love you, Damon. And when I look at my future I see you. I see forever.”

 

===

 

She’s almost twenty-two, a few more months and it’ll be her birthday.

She remembers being seventeen, she remembers being stalwart in being human. She remembers being eighteen, laying in a hospital bed with her little brother, being so thankful that she didn’t die, that she didn’t have to be reborn.

She remembers having convictions about her humanity staying in tact. But then she grew up, and there’s a part of her that hates being the token human. That learns humanity and human don’t always go hand in hand.

Sometimes, she hates having to be protected at every turn. She’s a doppelganger, big deal. It doesn’t afford her any sort of long lasting safety. Her life is only important to a select few.

One day, when she’s twenty, she looks at Caroline. At Stefan. Thinks of Damon. They’ll be young forever. She has Bonnie to grow old with, but Bonnie can protect herself. Bonnie can just look at a supernatural creature and give them a headache from hell. She wants to be something more than little Elena, soft squishy Elena who’s afraid.

There’s Jeremy, but she could protect Jeremy. Watch him grow up and grow old and live his life. It’d be easier, she thinks, to protect him.

Elena was once an inch away from immortally, and she hated the idea, but now.

Damon asks if she’s sure thirty-one times. She counted. And she is. She’s very sure.

Before, it was an idea she rolled around in her head. Moments where she’d find herself thinking that if only she was a vampire, things could go so differently, plans and situations could play out so differently if they didn’t have to factor in her life.

Now, with Damon in her bed, sleep rumpled and happy, the idea feels more concrete, like she just has to mark a date on her calendar. Because when she looks at Damon, when she kisses him awake and runs her hands through his hair, when he pulls her so close that she can’t tell where she starts and he ends, she sees this for the rest of her life.

When Damon blows in her ear while she’s studying just to hear her laugh. When he playfully nips at her fingers, just the blunt edges of his human teeth, a little warning when she won’t stop poking his face to get his attention.

Breakfast on the roof and dinner in bed, dancing in the Boarding House kitchen. Little moments that culminate into what Elena wants forever.

When she told Damon she sees the rest of forever with him, she meant it. She meant ten, fifty, one hundred years from now.

Finally, after the thirty-second time, he stops asking if she’s sure. _‘Til death do us part_ , he says, that teasing inflection to his voice, burying the real emotion under a joke. She repeats it back to him, brings his wrist to her mouth, and she makes sure he knows she means it.

“I love you,” is the last thing she hears before Damon snaps her neck.

She’s staring down the barrel of eternity, and this time, she closes her eyes and pulls the trigger.


End file.
